


Twenty-One

by imagining_supernatural



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-12 10:22:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22095127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imagining_supernatural/pseuds/imagining_supernatural
Summary: On your 21st birthday, you celebrate at the bar, but after a few drinks you accidentally let a little secret slip. Sam and Dean might not be able to get over it, and you might have just lost your best friends
Relationships: Dean Winchester / Reader, Dean Winchester/You, Dean/You, Dean/reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 53





	Twenty-One

“Hurry up, Y/N!” Dean called through the bathroom door. “If you’re not ready in five minutes, we’re leaving your ass.”

“You wouldn’t,” you responded with confidence, applying your mascara carefully. “It’s my birthday and not even you’re mean enough to leave someone behind on their birthday.”

You heard a thump on the door and imagined Dean leaning against it with crossed arms. You’d lived with Sam and Dean since you outgrew diapers. Your parents had been hunters and when they were killed, they left you to be under John’s care. You were practically the Winchesters’ sister, but you’d been working on changing that, at least for Dean. Even in your high school years when you barely saw the boys, since you’d been shipped off to a boarding school, you still knew them better than anyone. You could practically predict their every move. And you definitely knew what Dean looked like when he leaned against a door and what a fine sight that was. “Sweetheart, we just finished a hunt and everyone says this place has the best burgers in town. Birthday or not, I’m starving.”

“Patience is a virtue, babe,” you replied. “Besides, I promise the wait will definitely be worth it.”

Dean grumbled something and walked away. You were tempted to tap into the other side of you and get into his head, just to see what he was thinking. After all, it was practically your purpose in life to know exactly what people wanted so that you could be that person. But your mother had managed to stay away from her primal instincts, and you knew that you could too.

So you finished applying your makeup and gave yourself another once over in the mirror, winking at your reflection. Despite the difficulties that came with your genes, you had to admit that the physical traits definitely came in handy. You were _hot_. And it was time for Dean to see that.

Throwing another flirtatious glance at yourself, you opened the door and stepped into the motel room. Sam and Dean looked up from where they had been talking and you watched their reactions with pleasure. Sam grinned, a little slack jawed. “Damn, Y/N.”

You smiled coyly and turned around, showing off all angles of your new outfit. You figured that since a girl only turned twenty-one once she ought to wear something that set her apart from the other women at a bar. So you’d bypassed your usual tight dresses and funky patterns for a simple black pencil skirt that hit halfway down your thighs and a sheer teal banded bottom halter top that showcased your favorite lacy black bra. It was just the right line between slutty and mature, professional and fun, and judging from the look on Dean’s face, it was perfect.

“So,” you held your arms out to the side. “What do you think? Perfect for my first night of legally getting drunk, right?”

“I’ll say,” Sam said. He glanced over at his brother and chuckled. “You’ve already knocked one guy speechless.”

That shook Dean out of his daze and he cleared his throat awkwardly and looked away. Deciding that he could use a little jealousy in his life, you walked over to the younger Winchester and rested your hand on his chest, looking up at him through your eyelashes. “Only one?”

The sparkle in Sam’s eyes told you that he knew _exactly_ what you were doing and he was all for playing along. His nose scrunched up as he smiled. “You’ll have to try harder than that to get to me.”

“Mmm. I do love a challenge.”

Dean made a disgusted noise and you looked over just in time to see him roll his eyes, something that turned into a whole head movement. “I’ll be in the car.”

He grabbed his jacket and started marching for the door. “Hey Dean!” You called after him, just before he reached the door. He hesitated before turning back to you. You just smirked, reached over to the table and grabbed the keys. “I think you forgot something.”

You tossed the keys at him, the clanking of metal on metal the only sound in the room for the brief second they were air bound. He effortlessly caught them in one hand. He forced out a _thanks_ while studiously avoiding looking straight at you. You and Sam watched him leave the motel room and looked at each other with matching grins as the door slammed shut.

“I have a feeling tonight’s gonna be interesting,” Sam said lightly.

“I sure hope so.”

* * *

“Round of shots down here for the birthday girl!” Dean called to the bartender.

The handsome bartender made his way over and in the low light of the bar, you could see the interested gleam in his eyes. He wasn’t Dean, but his attention sure did make you feel pretty good. “Birthday girl, huh?”

“That’s me,” you replied, leaning forward on the barstool.

His eyes trailed down from your face to the rest of your body, completely unintimidated by the two men on either side of you. “How many years has your beautiful face been on this planet, and why the hell haven’t we met before?”

Dean shifted next to you, angling himself towards you more and you grinned, but turned that look on the bartender. “A woman never tells her age. It’s just not mysterious enough.”

“I could always ask for your ID,” the bartender pointed out, eyes finally making their way back up to your face. “That way I could get your name too.”

“But where’s the fun in that?”

You didn’t have to dive into his mind to see that his thoughts had gone straight to the gutter. You also didn’t have to swim through his desires to see just what he wanted. It would be so easy to mold yourself into his perfect woman and get him to do your bidding. But it was easier to resist. You’d spent so long pushing away the instincts from your mother’s side of the family that it was second nature now. You barely had to think about it at all.

“You gonna make us those drinks, _buddy_? Or am I gonna have to jump over the counter and make them myself?” Dean asked harshly, resting his hand on the back of your bar stool possessively.

The bartender shot Dean a dirty look, but complied. You caught Sam’s amused look and grinned. Before turning to Dean, you schooled your face into a disapproving look. You didn’t want to give too much away quite yet. “That was rude.”

“He wasn’t doing his job,” Dean growled.

“He was being _nice_.”

“He was trying to get into your pants.”

“I’m wearing a skirt,” you pointed out matter of factly, just to be a smartass. Dean rolled his eyes, but you noticed how his eyes dropped to your lap and took their time traveling back up to your face.

“You know what I mean.”

“And you should know that I’m a grown woman, Winchester. I can let anyone in that I want.”

He scoffed and glanced at the bartender who was taking longer than he should. “And you wanted to let _him_ in?”

“He’s the only one who’s made a move so far,” you dropped your voice and let your eyes linger on Dean’s gorgeous lips for a second. “You gotta put in the effort if you want the prize, babe.” Without giving Dean a chance to work through that or even respond, you turned back to the bartender. “Hey hotstuff, where’s my drink? I can’t wait to have my very first alcoholic drink in my entire life.”

He smirked, studiously ignoring Dean’s look. “Something tells me you already know how to handle your alcohol.”

“Well we’ll never be able to test that theory if you don’t get a girl her shot.” You leaned forward and winked, enjoying the eye roll it invoked from Dean.

With a flick of his wrist, the bartender slid the small glass over to you. Two others followed, coming to rest before the brothers on either side of you. Sam picked up his glass, his huge hand dwarfing it, and held it up for a toast. “To Y/N and the first time she can use her real ID to get drinks.”

“To Y/N,” Dean chorused. There was the tinkling sound of glass on glass as the three of you clinked your shot glasses together. Then, in sync, you all downed the shot. The liquid burned on its way down your throat, but you’d had enough practice not to gag or cough.

You and the boys ordered another round of shots before slipping back into habit and getting your usual drinks. You were just starting to feel the buzz when the first man approached you and asked you to dance. Since you thoroughly enjoyed the way the muscle in Dean’s cheek twitched, you placed your hand in the stranger’s and allowed him to lead you to the dance floor. For nearly an hour you danced with man after man. The more you drank, the more your walls slipped and your mother’s side of your genes came out. But it wasn’t enough to cause you alarm, especially in your drunken state, so you kept drinking and dancing. The one man you really wanted to dance with was sullenly sitting at the bar, pretending he wasn’t keeping an eye on you. You’d get through to him eventually. But for now you had to content yourself with the seemingly never ending herd of men.

And it wasn’t a bad situation. They were all moderately attractive and none of them made your skin feel like bugs were crawling over it, so that was a plus. A few of them even knew some moves.

Then Dean came over and cut in, starting to drag you off the dance floor.

“C’mon Deeean,” you slurred slightly, “Just one dance. You know you want to.”

“Oh sweetheart, I don’t dance.” He helped you into a bar stool and signaled to a bartender. “Water down here.”

“I’m fine, Dean.” Your hand found its way to his chest and you leaned closer, falling into his beautiful emerald eyes. “You… you have a _nice_ face.”

He shrugged it off. “Yeah, thanks.”

“No, really. A _nice_ face. Like, it’s almost like a Greek sculpture. Your cheekbones… and your jaw… and those eyelashes I just… Wow. You know what I mean?”

His uncomfortable grin showed up and he grabbed the glass of water the bartender slid his way. “You’re really drunk. Drink this.”

Shoving his hand away, you trailed your fingers down his cheek, the stubble of his five o’ clock shadow scratching on the pads of your fingers. “I’m serious. Your face is… I don’t think even my mom could become someone remotely as sexy as you. She had to work to change into what people wanted, but you… you’re already there, babe.”

“You’re drunker than I thought,” Dean chuckled drily. “You’re not making any sense.”

It took you a minute to find the words you were looking for. “I’m… making… _perfect_ sense, Dean-o. You’ve got a face that makes people do crazy things for you and you’re one hundred percent human. People do what I want ‘cause it’s in my genes. You don’t have any help, you just gotta look at people and they ask how high you want them to jump. I gotta figure out what they want and sing my song, or whatever shit those Greek sailors thought we did back then.”

“What are you talking about?”

Had you been sober, you would have picked up on the distrust and serious note in Dean’s voice. But, since you’d had a few beers too many, you just kept digging your hole further. “Plus I’m only a half-blood, so I would have to work harder anyway. You sure you aren’t a siren too? ‘Cause, baby, you are definitely what everyone wants.”

“A siren?” Dean asked, taking a step away. That slight difference was the movement that slapped reality back into you and you realized what you’d just said.

Your parents had warned you in a note not to tell anyone, especially hunters. They said that your human half wouldn’t be enough to keep them from knowing and killing you. And you’d guarded that secret your whole life.

“Who’s a siren?” Sam asked, coming up behind Dean. His eyes shifted around the room before following Dean’s gaze to you.

“Y/N, apparently,” Dean answered shortly.

“I’m—“ you thought quickly, trying to dig your way out of this hole. “I’m drunk. I don’t know what I’m saying.”

“You can’t lie when you’re drunk,” Sam said slowly, eyeing you. “Remember? We’ve tested this.”

“Then I guess twenty-one really is a magical birthday,” you shrugged, knowing your argument was weak.

Dean grabbed your arm and practically dragged you out of the bar, though you didn’t put up much of a fight. Once the three of you were alone, Dean turned on you with his carefully crafted interrogation expression. “You’d better start talking.”

“Usually you’re trying to get me to shut up,” you tried to joke. They just set their jaws and crossed their arms, refusing to take the bait. “Look, I didn’t know until I was ten and my parents’ lawyer gave me a letter they wrote. My mom was a siren but she fell in love with my dad—my human dad—and stopped doing the whole seduction of death thing. I can’t shapeshift and I have no inclination to make people prove their love to me by killing the person they love most, okay?”

“And the mind thing? How you guys always know exactly what everyone wants?” Dean asked.

“I can do that,” you muttered, glancing away. Disgust crossed their faces and for a moment you marveled at how quickly they’d turned from you. Your parents were right. No hunter would trust you. You just thought the Winchesters might be different. “But I swear I’ve never done it to you guys. Only on a few hunts to calm people down or to figure out what really happened. I _swear_. I’ve never used that side of me around you guys.”

You looked right into Dean’s eyes. “You have to believe me.”

“I don’t have to do anything, Y/N,” Dean replied coldly. He shook his head and turned to walk away. “C’mon Sammy.”

“Dean, please,” you begged.

His whole body tensed and you only had a second to prepare yourself for his fury before he turned on you. His voice was louder than you’d ever heard him yell before, scaring you. “You lied to us! To me! For eleven years, you knew and you didn’t think this mattered?”

“I knew it mattered I just—“ he cut off your tiny voice.

“How the hell are we supposed to know if you’re really you, huh? Maybe you’ve just been playing us this whole time. A slow-burn control freak situation. Kinky, but I’m not into it.” The glare he aimed your way cut through you and you felt the tears trying to escape, but you managed to hold them back. This time when Dean grabbed Sam, you didn’t try and stop them.

* * *

It was three in the morning when you finally went back to your hotel room. After the Winchesters left, you’d gone back to the bar and ordered a burger and anything but alcohol. You wanted to make sure the Winchesters were asleep when you got back so you wouldn’t accidentally run into them in the parking lot or something, and food seemed like a good way to pass the time and sober up. But eventually you got sick of moping at a bar full of strangers and decided a change of scenery would be nice. Moping alone in a hotel room seemed like a much more attractive option.

So you trudged through the streets, looking forward to changing out of your outfit that had seemed gorgeous a few hours before, but now just seemed sad and desperate.

As you imagined the comfy sweats and oversized hoodie back in your duffle, you decided that you would try and talk to the Winchesters in the morning, unless they had already left. You wouldn’t force them to keep you around, but you wanted to see if they were still angry. You understood their anger. After all, you were one of the monsters they hunted. And you_ had_ lied to them. But you were practically family, so that had to count for something, right?

You reached your door and unlocked it, slipping into the dark room and locking up right behind you. Tonight was not a night that you wanted any surprises. You sighed, resting your forehead against the cool metal door for a moment before turning the light on.

And you nearly screamed. There was a figure sitting on the chair, but he was startled awake by the light turning on.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean groaned, throwing his arm over his eyes until they adjusted.

“God, Dean. You scared the hell out of me!” You put your hand over your heart, breathing hard from the adrenaline rush. “What were you thinking? Lurking in a woman’s hotel room with the lights off? I could have killed you.”

He waved his hand like it was no big deal. “I knew you didn’t have a gun on you.”

“And a gun is the only way I know how to kill someone,” you said sarcastically. Remembering why Dean left you in the first place, you looked around for a weapon on him. You didn’t know if you could be killed like a human, or if you had to be killed like a siren, but you knew that you bled like a human that that hurt like a bitch. You didn’t want to take any chances and, even though you didn’t see a weapon at first glance, you didn’t want to take any chances so you stayed by the door. “What are you doing here?”

“Waiting for you to get back,” he answered, standing up. “Didn’t expect you to be out so late.”

“I expected you to be in your room. With Sam.”

“You were planning on avoiding us?” He asked, taking a step forward.

You fell back, hitting the door behind you. Your hand found the doorknob and you held onto it, ready for a quick escape if necessary. “For tonight, yeah.”

“Why?” He stopped advancing on you, a slightly hurt look crossing his face.

“Because you guys were so mad. And I’ve never understood why people are scared when you’re mad, but I get it now. It’s different when your anger is actually directed at me.” Your fingers tightened around the doorknob. “You guys are scary when you’re angry, and you’re mad at me and I totally understand why.”

“You don’t have to be scared of me,” Dean whispered, taking another step forward.

His words didn’t exactly reassure you and you plastered your back against the door, trying to keep as far away from him as possible. “Don’t I?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that I’m a monster, Dean! It means that I’m exactly what your dad trained us to kill—trained _you_ to kill. It means that he’s probably killed at least one of my family members and I wouldn’t put it past you or even blame you if you did the same to me. But I don’t want to die, so yeah. I’m scared.” You never once looked away from Dean, watching his body for any sign that he was about to pounce; any sign that you should run.

He raised his arm and you flinched, only relaxing slightly when he ran his fingers through his hair. He caught your reaction and frowned. “I’m not gonna kill you, Y/N.”

You swallowed. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“What am I supposed to say? _Thank you for not killing me_?” He started to come closer, but stopped when you flinched again.

“You don’t believe me,” he stated in disbelief. “You don’t trust me.”

“I do trust you. You just don’t trust me anymore so that means I can’t trust you right now,” you said in a rush.

“That… doesn’t really make sense…” Dean’s eyebrows drew together.

You tried to calm down and take stock of the situation, but your mind was still slightly drunk and you were emotional and exhausted. “Um. So if you’re not going to kill me tonight then—“

“I’m not going to kill you _ever_,” Dean interrupted.

You paused, trying to decide if you believed him before you restarted. “If you’re not going to kill me tonight, then I don’t see why this conversation can’t wait until tomorrow.”

“Because I can’t go to sleep knowing that you think I could kill you! I can’t sleep if you don’t trust me, Y/N,” Dean looked like he wanted to cross the few feet between the two of you, but he was smart enough to have read the last few minutes and know that wouldn’t be welcome.

“Well I don’t think I’ll be getting much sleep either, knowing that you have an arsenal in your trunk just outside the door.”

“How—“ Dean walked backwards until his calves hit the bed and he sat heavily. “How did you jump so quickly to the conclusion that Sammy or I would kill you? After everything we’ve been through…”

“Because that’s what’s gonna happen,” you whispered. “That’s why I didn’t tell you all these years. I knew you’d react like you did and my parents warned me in that letter not to tell any hunters. They told me that as soon as anyone knew, I would have a bullet with my name on it. It doesn’t matter that I haven’t actually done anything siren-y. The life of a hunter is black and white. I know that.”

“It’s not always black and white,” he argued.

You were shaking your head before he even finished. “No, it is. It has to be. Because if it’s not, it gets messy. And when it gets messy, the lines blur, and things like me happen.” You could see his dissension on his lips, but hurried to finish the conversation before it could devolve. Speaking with him had cleared your mind and you realized that staying with the Winchesters wasn’t an option anymore. “I think you need to leave. You should go back to Sam and I’ll be gone before you guys get up in the morning. You won’t have to worry about any moral obligation to me or the hunter way of life.”

“What? No!” Your words electrified him and he shot up, stalking toward you despite how on edge his proximity put you. “I’m not going to just let you leave!”

“Well, if you’re not going to kill me, then I’m not seeing another option here, Dean!” Your eyes darted around for anything that could be used as a weapon, in case he changed his mind. When he was only a few steps away, you started opening the door. One of you was about to leave one way or another.

Dean reached up and pushed the door closed with a slam, coming to a stop when you were toe to toe. His eyes burned down into yours. “You want another option?”

Before you could answer, his lips were on yours, gentle despite the tension in the room. All of the air seemed to converge in the space between you two as his lips moved against yours. The kiss was too short, but long enough to short circuit your brain so when he pulled back, you weren’t sure what you felt. Your eyes stayed closed a moment longer, trying to draw the moment out.

“I wasn’t mad that you were a siren, and I wasn’t even really mad that you didn’t tell us,” he whispered in a strangled voice. “I was mad because I thought you messed with me because I was feeling things that I’ve never felt before. And it all made sense then and I was just mad that I actually gave into your _charms_.”

“But I didn’t—“

“I know that now. Now that I’ve owned up to my own feelings.” Dean leaned down, kissing you again. You leaned into this kiss, placing a hand on his chest for balance. All of the angsty and angry thoughts that had been in your head just moments before flew out the window and all that you could think of was Dean. His fingers weaving into your hair and his hand on your waist, pulling your body flush with his. The weight of his lips pressing against yours in a delirious wave of desire. Dean’s heartbeat speeding up, racing with yours.

“I love you,” he whispered against your lips, just before pulling back to look into your eyes. “A very beautiful woman once told me that if I wanted the prize, I had to put in the effort. And I’m in for the long run, sweetheart.”

There was not an ounce of uncertainty or deception in his gorgeous jade eyes and everything felt right for the first time in hours. You reached up between your bodies and framed his face with your hands. “I love you too, Dean Winchester.”


End file.
